The Gates of Paradox
by darkmarkgirl
Summary: Unknownst to Harry in his bedroom at Number 4, Privit Drive, his counterpart is wreaking havoc in another world. What will Harry do when he is sucked into the world, and what can he do to undo the great evil his counterpart has brought upon them?


The Gate of Paradox 

Author: darkmarkgirl

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

The warehouse had been empty for many years. Decades ago it had been the home of boxes and barrels, each stuffed with unseen contents. Now dust adorned the hard wood ceiling and carpeted the cold stone floor, and its barred windows gave the feeling of an empty prison. The place gave off the impression of a fantasy ice palace, maybe the home of horrible demons or monsters that guarded its cold interior. No one ever entered. Not even on Halloween, when children dared each other to endeavor in dangerous tasks which included the ransacking or exploring of abandoned buildings. The bank left it alone, declaring it 'unsafe and unsanitary' by the men who inspected it. It was formally owned by the government, but in all these years no one had done a thing to demolish it, or investigated its contents.

Every time the townspeople thought about the place a strange darkness crept over their thoughts, whispering tantalizing thoughts in their heads. It was a strange feeling, almost like a curse, undefined. And the residents of the town did not like danger. Throughout the many years that passed since its closing, the building remained just a hint in their memories, an invisible structure in a sociable town. Rarely was it paid any notice except when the source of gossip was sucked dry. In fact, the place had remained vacant, until…now.

A girl, her brown braids sticking from her scalp skipped thought the field, a smile plastered firmly on her face. School had just finished, and a light summer breeze was playing across the field. Rather then brave the motor road and the taunts of her schoolmates, she had chosen the plain next to the woods that no one ever crossed. Her schoolbooks tucked safely under one arm she skipped, her braids flying freely in the wind, throughout the sand-colored grass. As many times before, the strange warehouse in the distance escaped her notice. It stood stoically, as if observing the girl's joyous movements.

'_Dobrej nocy, i sza,' _sang the girl as she skipped, her skirts flapping in the wind. _'do bialego śpij dnia_._' _

Unknownst to the girl, the sound of her voice carried over to a strange man. The man was standing stock-still in the grass, his dark black uniform contrasting the sandy grass so strongly it was a wonder she had not seen him. This man was danger. It was all over his body, the sharp, iron blades slung over his back, the accessory pouches that hung on his belt, and a black mask that covered his face. Only two black eyes glared from the slits in the mask. There was something in his glare that was bloody.

The man was watching the girl, his eyes narrowed. One hand was on the handle of a scythe, the other resting on a pocket hung on his belt. His cold eyes tracked her every movment, watching her as she danced throughout the waving grass, singing,

'_Śpij dziecino, oczka zmruż,' _The girl continued dancing, unaware of the creeping shadow getting closer and closer to her.

Silently he slipped farther in the grass. The blades swept at his robes as he went, creating a swishing sound as they felt his leather robes. The man paid no attention to this. All his attention was focused on the young girl. Like a snake he slithered through the grass, watching her every move.

'_Śpij do wschodu rannych zorz''_

Closer and closer he came, a dark figure blending in with the ice-cold warehouse, slipping in between the grass.

'_Mama zaś będzie tu,' _

He was feet from her now. Still she danced, her amber eyes taking in the sky above. Her voice sang with passion, but the man did not feel it stirred by the song let alone acknowledged it. He had never felt anything in his life.

'_Śpiewać piosnki do-" _Suddenly she stopped. At last she had seen the iron-clad figure now standing only feet from her, his cold black eyes taking her in with indifference. Her school books dropped to the ground, the wind overpowering the sound as they hit the ground. The girl's eyes widened, her mouth still open to sing the next word. She sprang, trying to run but the man had anticipated this movement. As quick as a fox he forced a bag upon her head. She screamed and cried out, but the bag clouded her words. Struggling frantically she tried to lift the bag off her head, to fight off the hands holding her. Her small foot hit the man in the groin, and he grunted. She ripped the bag off her head and the moment she did so, gasped.

She was standing in front of the old warehouse. Not in many years had a human been as close as she was now. Her insides froze. There was a demonic thing about the house, something that brimmed pure evil. She tried to back away but her feet were glued to the ground. She opened her mouth to scream, but felt the cloth bag close over her head once more. This time she did not fight. The image of the warehouse, complete with its ragged wood walls and torn shingled roof plastered before her eyes. A fist connected with her head and she fell to the ground, her eyes still wide open in fear. Slowly, they dropped closed.

000000000000

She was in the warehouse.

That was the first thing that had registered in her mind when she opened her eyes. As many as her teachers knew, she had a more intelligent mind than most people her age, or most people _existing. _This was partly the reason she had no friends, the reason that the other children whispered and stole false tales about her behind her back. But even her vast intelligence could not blot out her fear. Her breaths were ragged and rushed as she glanced around, sweat pouring down the side of her face. The assumption she had made in the first place was indeed correct. Even without her vision the aura was unmistakable-the cold, demon like feeling anyone got when they were close, or even thinking about it-the walls that seemed to glare like devils, the wood planks blazing a invisible fire, the cold, creeping sensation that had settled over her mind. Her small brown eyes found a small wooden door half open, its iron hinges rusted and unused. But they had been used today. And if her captors had kept the door open, they were unconcerned about anyone finding her here. It would be useless to shout out.

"Good, you're awake." A rough, male voice sounded from behind her, drawling.

Frantic, she tried to move but found she was bound to a chair. She twisted her neck but found no one.

The man, who seemed to realize this, walked around and stood in front of her. The girl gasped. It was the same man as before, the black mask hiding his oval face, the billowing robes laden with weapons. She could not even see his mouth, but it was there, jeering words at her.

"What-what do you want?" she choked, her mouth dry. Her mind was a mess of confusion. Only minutes ago she had been skipping through the grass, celebrating the end of school, and now she was being held captive in the warehouse!

The mask remained expressionless, although she could sense the man grinning. A gloved hand reached out and caressed her chin, she flinched and stared back at him in terror. Suddenly his aura grew cold, and he released her.

"You know what I want," he said coldly, his black eyes narrowing. "The Gate of Paradox. You know what that is."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she cried, struggling. Surely this man was mad! She continued struggling, searching for a hint of cruel humor in his eyes but found none. "You're mad! You-"

A hand came out of nowhere and connected with her face. She screamed as pain seared across her skin, bruising the soft flesh. "Don't play games with me. You know what it is. Tell me now."

"I don't-" she started again, but the hand lashed out, sending the other cheek searing with pain. Sobs erupted out of her as the man stared into her eyes cruelly, his hand held back as if preparing for another slap. Why was he hurting her? "I don't know, please, leave me alone, let me go, I don't know-"

"_Silence!" _he commanded and she immediately ceased to sob. She watched anxiously as he straightened himself, his black eyes still narrowed. "I am prepared to persuade you," he whispered softly, his voice telling of danger. The girl did not speak a word.

He snapped his fingers once and three more men, dressed in the same black robes stepped out of the shadows and stood around her. "These men will hurt you. They will cause you a great deal of pain. There is a way out of this. All you have to do is tell me how to open the gate!"

"I told you, I don't know!" she sobbed, tears flowing rapidly down her cheeks. Her whole body shook as the men advanced on her, angry eyes glaring from behind masks. "Please-just let me go!"

One of the men, taller than the others, approached her. His mask was cut short and the girl could see a horrible sneer on his face. She shrank back from him. "Very well, then. Let's see if this will persuade you."

And he stepped back. She braced herself for the pain, her eyes shut tight. Small sobs wracked her body, her chest rising up and down. She was going to die. Never again would she see her mother and father. Never again would she sit on Grandmarie's lap, listening to her soft voice recite old tales. Never again would she smell the sweet cinnamon her mother used as she baked. She was alone…helpless.

The walls shook. The girl shut her eyes tightly. Now the three men were chanting strange words, and she could see brilliant light from beyond her closed eyelids. Then a grinding sound, and a feeling like everything was being closed on her.

She stiffened. There was no pain. Was this really death? Could it happen? She remembered her Grandmother's words:

'_Death only comes when one gives up, or it is time for one to give their soul to the earth.'_

No, she decided. It wasn't her time.

The man called out to her, his words sounding warnings, but she ignored him. All she was focused on was staying alive. The walls continued closing in on her, but she paid no notice. Her brow furrowed in concentration. The strange, demonic walls of the warehouse had no affect on her as she concentrated.

Suddenly she heard screaming. Her amber eyes flew open and widened in terror. In front of her stood her captor. Brilliant violet light surrounded him on every side, crushing him. His mask had fallen off. The man was screaming and his eyes were wide in fear as the light closed in on him. A strange force flowed into her body. She felt confident, older, and powerful. A voice spoke, a voice that was but was not hers:

"_Begone from this place. Cross over in space and you will learn…"_

She watched in amazement as a sphere appeared in the center of the room. It was the same violet light that surrounded the man. The girl felt a vacuum, sucking the air from the building. There was screaming-the man was being sucked in the sphere, screaming as his feet were ripped from the ground, his wide eyes staring into hers as he was sucked in the sphere. It took first his feet, then his torso, and then his head-and the screaming with it.

All was silent. Struck by terror, the girl's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fainted.

It was a bitterly cold day. Frost crept up the crystallized windows of the room and the wind slammed into the walls as an ox might rush at his opponent. The weather beat itself at the walls of Hogwarts school, but it did not infiltrate the stone walls of Albus Dumbledore's office.

Albus hummed lightly to himself, strolling up and down the midnight-blue carpet of his office. He was reading a letter, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly as his eyes traveled down the page. Once he was done he smiled and set the letter down on his desk. The portraits on the walls were snoring rather unconvincingly, but Dumbledore did not appear to notice. His full attention was set upon an owl being blown towards the window by the howling wind, and he opened the window without a moment's hesitation.

Despite the terrible weather, the owl had been visible to him from a distance, and Dumbledore smiled knowingly as he plucked a letter from the snowy owl's beak. He slid open the envelope and glanced over the letter, the lights in his blue eyes dancing merrily.

Chuckling slightly to himself, Dumbledore walked around his desk and sat in the chair behind it. He plucked a quill from a small pot and then still smiling serenely to himself, dipped it in a pot of ink. The wind slammed against the walls, threatening to knock the pot ajar, but Dumbledore set it upright and continued with his letter:

_Dear Harry,_

_I am pleased to hear that you are doing well, and advise you to exercise a bit more caution concerning your relatives. Lawsuits would not befriend you, and I am sure you would rather retain peace and quiet than have the pleasure of your relative's confusion and disarray, I'm sure. I will enclose a counter curse with this letter, and advise you to keep a closer eye out on who performs Confounding Charms in King's Cross. A lecture might be necessary for those responsible, and I am glad not to be the one who must give it. I hope the rest of your summer is satisfactory. _

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Finished, Dumbledore dropped the letter back into the inkwell and surveyed his work. He was, overall, pleased at Harry's acceptance of the prophecy, and a lighter demeanor in his character. Harry's willingness to talk to him, be light-hearted with him was worth more than Dumbledore could say, and he hoped to guide Harry through the many tasks set before him.

Dumbledore sighed and caressed his chin in his hands, staring out at the midnight-blue sky. Maybe, just maybe if he did it right, Harry would become the same innocent boy he left on a doorstep sixteen years ago.

"Potter. Potter!"

Harry groaned and turned over in his sleep. The blankets were so warm and comfortable that he didn't think he could ever wake up. But it was strange…the last time Uncle Vernon had bothered him like this was last summer, before Moody issued his order…why was he after him now?

Wearily Harry creaked open his eyes. The view was blurry since his glasses weren't on. "What?" he croaked.

"C'mon, Potter, we've got a surprise for you downstairs! Get 'em on."

Harry felt something that seemed like a shirt hit his cheek, and mentally he groaned. Sighing, he got up, pulled on his glasses, and came face to face with a total stranger.

"Agh!" Harry yelled, overridden with panic, and scrambled backwards onto the bed. His back hit the rail and it was cold, hard, metal, not like the one at the Dursley's house…he stared at the man before him and saw it was a person with cold, dark metal eyes…a Death Eater, no doubt. Harry fumbled for his wand on the bedside table, but found nothing.

He looked up at the man, terrified, but the man merely stared at him with a strange look on his face. Finally he said, "Why are you acting so weird, Potter?"

Harry said nothing, tensing his muscles to fight. If this was Voldemort's idea of a joke, a trick or a trap, then he wouldn't fall for it. To his surprise, however, the man simply turned and walked away. He watched him leave the room and disappear down an unfamiliar hallway.

Harry slowly lowered his legs over the side of the bed, shaking. He looked around the room. He wasn't at the Dursleys' anymore for sure. It looked like a run-down hotel-there was peeling paint on the walls, a Muggle telephone in one corner, and worn bedsheets. Did the Death Eaters bring him here? Harry's fists clenched. It wasn't enough for Voldemort to kill his godfather-now he was in the middle of nowhere, abducted by Death Eaters and without a wand! Harry stole a glance at the door. It was wide open and Harry could hear noise coming from downstairs. Silently he snatched up the clothes and put them on. He wouldn't stand here and do nothing. There had to be a way to escape from the Death Eaters, and Harry was going to do it.

"C'mon, Potter, we're waiting!"

"What's this sick game you're playing, Voldemort?" Harry snarled at no one. He waited, half expecting Voldemort to come out of the shadows. But no one came.

"Fine, I'll find you myself!" Harry whispered furiously. He cast a glance around the room and snatched up a lamp, it could be used as a weapon. It wouldn't be much use against an Unforgivable or even a Stunner, but it was something. Being careful to keep quiet, he made his way down the stairs to where the men were sitting.

_The Gate of Paradox is still open._

These were the first words that came into the man's head as he snapped his eyes open and sat bolt upright. He quickly calculated his surroundings and saw that he was in some sort of bedroom. The man growled, kicking over some books lying scattered on the floor. By the looks of it, he was in some teenage boy's bedroom. He reached the door and threw it open, revealing a suburban home. The carpet was disgustingly clean and Muggle cleaning products stank up the house. The man whipped out his wand-he was in a bad mood, and a little destruction could be covered up…

Footsteps on the stairs stopped him, and he froze. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs and for a moment everything was silent. Then a screechy, high-pitched voice came up the stairs:

"Boy! What are you doing up this time in the morning? Get back to bed!"

By the gods, what the hell was this woman doing up either? He darted behind a wall, surveying her with his eyes. She didn't look like a Ministry official, and looked like the teenager's mother. If this was the mother, he sure as hell wouldn't want to meet the kid.

Well, he growled to himself, there was no point dallying around. He needed to find his way back to the House, and fast. If he was discovered or caught, there was no telling what would happen. He couldn't afford even a Muggle tip-off, any piece of information that those idiots could get would set them on his trail.

The man started creeping down the stairs but he stopped as he heard the muggle woman coming up the stairs in a fit of rage. Automatically he searched for a wand and found none-she was a muggle. An inhuman grin spread slowly across his face, and his fingers grasped his wand sitting at the ready in his pocket. Well, one wouldn't hurt.

Pulling out his wand, he waited on the other side of the wall, and the woman continued up the stairs, unaware of Death approaching her. There wasn't much she could have done anyway. Only a few hours after her murder Muggle and Wizard authorities alike would be notified of Petunia Dursley's death and Harry Potter's disappearance, and chaos would be ensured throughout the Wizarding World.

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think.


End file.
